The Planet Correction Protocol

Chapter 1  Elysian’s Deadly Allure

The first official diplomatic visit between the Orean Consortium and Earth was held at the International Conference Center in Sterling Harbor. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows lay a blue bay and a skyline of skyscrapers; inside, beige carpet, long tables with flowers and the welcoming tea and snacks prepared by the Earth side. Ten Orean diplomats in silver-gray formal dress sat on one side with dignified bearing; across from them were the UN Special Coordination Group and host-country officials, everyone smiling, the atmosphere friendly and restrained.

The head of the delegation was a senior diplomat named Velen Thorn. Through a real-time translator he addressed the Earth representatives, his voice steady and magnetic: “We have crossed the starry sea to build understanding and trust between two civilizations. Oreams believe that reason and goodwill are a universal language.” The chief Earth representative nodded in agreement and, following the planned program, outlined the itinerary for the coming days, including visits to local enterprises, cultural exchange, and the signing of a memorandum of cooperation.

On the second day of the visit, to showcase “openness and inclusiveness,” the host country arranged for the Orean delegation to tour one of Sterling Harbor’s star companies—Elysian Beauty. The company was known for high-end skincare and makeup, with products sold in many countries, and was seen as a symbol of Earth’s “soft power.” The reception staff introduced the brand with enthusiasm: “Elysian believes that beauty is every person’s birthright. Our products help you present your most confident, most compelling self.” They then invited the Orean diplomats to try the company’s newest “Soul Radiance” line—said to be a landmark fusion of Eastern botanicals and Western technology.

Oreams were no strangers to the ideas of “beauty” and “skincare”; in their culture, propriety and appearance were also valued. So when the staff set out delicate bottles and jars and indicated they could try the products, Head Velen Thorn, out of courtesy and curiosity, was the first to pick up a bottle labeled “serum” and, following the instructions, apply a small amount to the inside of his wrist. The other nine delegates followed suit: some tried face cream, some tried lip color, and one gently swept a bit of eyeshadow onto their eyelids. The reception room was filled with fragrance; the Earth staff looked on with pride, waiting for the guests’ admiration.

The change came without warning.

Less than thirty seconds after applying the serum, Velen Thorn’s face turned ashen. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no sound came out; then his body began to convulse violently, his pupils dilated, and he slid from his chair to the floor. Almost at the same moment, the other nine Orean diplomats showed the same response—the woman who had tried the face cream collapsed before she could scream; the young man who had used the lip color clutched his throat, nails scraping the table; the one who had used the eyeshadow fell backward, blood streaming from both eyes. Ten people, ten products; within less than two minutes, all had lost vital signs.

The Earth staff in the reception room were completely stunned. Some ran out to call for doctors, some slumped to the floor, some held their heads and repeated: “It’s impossible… it’s just cosmetics… just cosmetics…” When emergency personnel arrived, they could only confirm that all ten Oreams were dead. The autopsy report, partially released days later, stated that the cause of death was linked to an unknown compound that triggered a severe rejection response in the Orean nervous and metabolic systems. Earth-side experts found multiple legal additives in Elysian’s formulations, but none that in routine tests would cause fatal harm to the human body—unless the subject was not “human.”

The news traveled back to the Orean Consortium at the speed of light, then spread via the interstellar communications network to every civilization that had dealings with humanoid star-folk. The cosmos was shaken. A visit that should have gone down in history as friendly had in an instant become ten corpses and an unresolved riddle: What had Earth people placed in the Oreams’ hands—a “gift” or a “weapon”? A tragedy of ignorance, or a carefully planned murder? After urgent consultations, Orean leadership made a calm and cold decision: they would send no more large delegations, but instead one observer, to infiltrate Earth in secret and investigate Elysian Beauty and related Earth culture until the truth of the “soul-eroding makeup” was clear, and to assess whether Earth civilization posed a threat to interstellar society.

The observer’s code name was 734. His orders were brief and clear: blend into local society, get close to the target company, find the answer.

No one knew that what this observer was about to meet on Earth was far from a simple investigation—but a chain of absurdity and madness enough to overturn everything he thought he knew. And the starting point of it all was those ten bottles gleaming in the sunlight, the deadly allure named “Elysian.”